


And Evil Men Fear to Go

by 3988Akasha



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bass continues to see things he thinks might not be there. He still doesn't care. </p>
<p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/667726"> Where Demons Hide.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	And Evil Men Fear to Go

**Author's Note:**

> Sophia requested a companion piece...and well, here you go!

He grips the edge of his desk to steady himself and he forgets the papers that had been important a moment ago. He knows he’s not alone in his office because he always knows when _he_ is near. He realizes it’s another illusion, another phantom conjured by his cruel subconscious, but it’s palpable, this presence and he won’t ignore it. He stands from the desk slowly, his head he keeps low, his eyes remain downcast, as though he cared about the papers on his desk. He locks his elbows to ensure his arms don’t tremble as he knows they would. He feels that sometimes _his_ presence is too much to take, too painful. He wonders when he’ll refuse to acknowledge his imaginings, when he’ll stop whispering _his_ name in the dark of the night when his bed is too large and too empty.

He cocks his head to the side knowing the ghost never makes a sound, but it was there all the same. He hears it, the faint sound of feet moving further into the room. He finds it challenging to breathe normally as his mind begins telling him it’s really _him_ this time because no one else enters a room like that. He can feel his heart clench, the temptation of it being true enough to make his knees want to buckle, but like his elbows, he locks his knees. He isn’t a coward, but he doesn’t want to look up and find himself alone in the office, his poltergeist taunting him with more corporeal desires. He keeps the desk between himself and the possibility of _him_ and slowly raises his head.

He fails to comprehend at first and fears his eyes are deceiving him. He continues to stare unblinking, knowing that if he does blink the image is sure to fade. He sees _him_ standing inside the office, face dirty, clothes rumpled, eyes tired. He wants to go to him, but his feet are rooted to the ground. He stares and waits. He has questions, so many questions, but he can’t seem to prioritize them as they swirl around his mind. He feels like a marionette as he moves out from behind the desk. His actions stiff and halting as he propels himself towards _him_. He wants to reach out and touch _his_ face, to assure himself that _he_ is as real as his mind is trying to convince him _he_ is. He withholds his hand, waiting for something to give him a small measure of hope.

He watches _him_ move closer, watches the way _his_ eyes scan him as though rememorizing something for later. He is concerned by that more than anything else because of what it might mean. He knows you only memorize things you don’t want to forget, not things you’re around daily. He overanalyzes each of _his_ actions, breaking them down into tiny pieces, trying to put them together into some semblance of reason, of explanation.

He refuses to move as his dream closes in on him.

His eyes are wide, even as they fill with tears.

He wishes he’d counted the hours, the minutes, wanting to give an accurate reporting of the days he’d spent alone.

He thinks he’ll burn the notebook if this is doesn’t prove to be a figment of his imagination.

His body trembles as _he_ wraps him in _his_ arms.

He still doesn’t blink, even as he wraps his own arms around _him._

He floats above the ground, unable to discern reality from imagination.

He’ll never blink again because he will never risk having _him_ disappear again.

He refuses to overthink his current state, _his_ arms are warm and for now it’s enough to keep him, to steady him.

**~FIN~**

**Author's Note:**

> So? Thoughts? Mistakes?
> 
> Let me know.
> 
> I've written the same style from Miles' POV. [Death Isn't Just a Heartbeat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/678810)


End file.
